


Friends (and Lovers) In High Places

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Flirting, Delinquent Clint, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nerd Coulson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson was enjoying a simple life. He may not of been the strongest, or the smartest, or the most popular. But he enjoyed his quiet, behind-the-scenes existence. Yes, he was satisfied with his life as it was. At least, until the school's most notorious troublemaker literally fell into his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling (Literally) In Love

\-------

"You can't keep this up, Coulson."

 

Phil looked up from his AP History textbook into the judgmental green eyes of his friend Natasha Romanov. Natasha was a fiery redhead who was not to be trifled with if you wanted you stay in one piece. When she had transferred from Russia in the seventh grade, no one had wanted to approach her, let alone befriend her, because of her dangerous aura. But Phil had seen someone who looked a little lonely, so he had plopped down across from her during lunch one day, introduced himself, and the rest was history (he was fairly sure the reason he wasn't bullied or annoyed in any way was because Natasha would take their arm as recompense). He sighed. She was also a notorious matchmaker to those that knew her, and she was the main reason Tony and Steve were together; otherwise Steve would still be blushing and stammering and tripping over his words, and Tony would be drowning himself in inventions to avoid his feelings. She had spent years trying to set him up with girls, and after he came out, she spent the remainder trying to set him up with guys. He was very tired of it all.

 

"Why can't you just let me be, Nat?"

"Because you're like a goddamn jellyfish. You just float around in the waves, and even when you find a fellow underwater inhabitant, you sting them, and make them leave."

"Well, this jellyfish-"

"Is quite satisfied with his peaceful life. I've heard it before, Phil. You can't be. I call BS."

 

He raised his textbook with a huff. Why didn't she believe him? He liked being where he was. He wasn't flashy or charismatic like the school's resident genius/billionaire's son, Tony Stark. He wasn't a golden boy like the football star/ gifted artist that was Steve Rogers, Tony's boyfriend. He didn't have the exotic charms of the Nordic transfer students (No one was really sure _where exactly_ they transferred from, but they sounded Nordic, kind of) Thor, a gigantic, blonde, golden retriever-like young man,  and his brother Loki, Thor's adopted, polar-opposite younger brother.  He just wanted to-

 

"LOOK OUT!"

 

* _CRASH*_

_*BOOM*_

_*SNAP*_

_*BANG*_

 

Phil sat up from the floor, rubbing his head. He would no doubt have a knot there in a few hours. Next to him was the ruined chair he was sitting in, and he winced when he saw the broken leg. He then noticed the groaning lump on his lap.

 

"Shit. Ow. Damn bookshelf, I thought it would hold up better than that."

 

He blinked, and the lump looked at him. It was a compact young man with striking blue eyes, unlike the soft blue eyes of Steve or the dark blue eyes of Thor. His hair was messed up and ruffled, and he sported a long, thin cut across his cheek. He had seen this guy before, somewhere...

 

" _Clint."_

 

Ah. That's where.

 

That was Clint Barton, resident troublemaker. He was known for his rather impressive acts of rebellion, and his sarcastic as hell sense of humor. Even though his grades sucked, and he couldn't sit still long enough to get through a class (often he just decided not to go), the intricacy of his plans showed a rather high intelligence. If it wasn't for the funding his constant victories in archery competitions brought in, he was pretty sure he'd have been expelled by now. It seemed like his favorite pastime was to give Principal Fury and Assistant Principal Hill aneurisms, and he took that pastime _very_ seriously. Right now, he was being chastised rather harshly by Natasha.

 

"You _idiot._ How many times have I warned you against destroying school property?"

"Come on, Nat. The last time was months ago, with the desk and live wire-"

" _CLINT."_

 

Sure enough, when Phil looked around, the bookshelf next to him was missing its top shelf (how did he even get up there?), and said shelf was laying next to the destroyed chair. The books that had been on the shelf were scattered everywhere, and Phil could only cringe when he thought about what would have happened if those were the heavy reference books. Natasha had smacked Clint on the head by now, and Clint was rubbing the spot and pouting.

 

"THERE HE IS!"

"DON"T JUST STAND THERE! GET HIM YOU IDIOTS!"

 

Clint whipped around, and there stood Justin Hammer and his group of football thugs. Justin was only about half as rich as Tony was, but he flaunted it much more thoroughly. His flaunting was the reason he had acquired his little group of bodyguards. Speaking of which, said bodyguards and Justin himself were _drenched,_ and covered in those little sticky NERF darts and a few prank arrows. He added the fact that in the back of his pants (and he noted that Clint _did_ have a very impressive ass) were two handheld NERF guns, in his right hand was his trusty bow (he carried that thing around more than he carried a backpack; it was the one thing that was present in pretty much all of his schemes), and a semi-automatic NERF gun and his quiver were laying on his back, attached to straps cris-crossed across his chest, he was pretty sure it was Clint's fault. Natasha murmured to Clint.

 

"Pool?"

"Yep."

"Darts and arrows?"

"You bet."

"Let me guess. Female underwear swap?"

"Boy shorts and a thong for Hammer. You know me so well."

"I'll back you up. Get your troublesome ass out of here."

 

He gave a mock-salute, and with skills that no one should possess outside of a circus, he hefted himself up on one shelf, flipped onto another, and began jumping from shelf to shelf towards the window. Once there, he picked the locked somehow, and used the flag pole next to it to slide onto the grass in the front courtyard. Phil watched through the lower window as he ran for the hills, and turned out of sight.

 

"Jackpot. You have a thing for Clint."

"I do _not."_

"Please. You were staring at his ass so hard, if you were Superman you would have burned a damn hole in it."

"I was taking in the NERF guns. You're not supposed to have those-"

"Bullshit. Besides, Clint would go for you. You're his type."

 

Phil smacked down the hopefulness that rose without his permission.

 

"I highly doubt that."

"You are. Reliable, competent, and slightly muscular."

 

He opened his mouth to further protest when Hammer's goons charged them. Natasha was a deadly force, and there was no doubt why Clint and her were friends. Clint's fiery swiftness and her cool efficiency were as balanced as yin and yang. In a matter of minutes, the goons were hurriedly retreating, as Natasha and himself (he had learned a few things from his father, and had taken some classes here and there; be quiet Natasha, alright, he _had_ been doing it for years, but that doesn't mean he utilized it often) had landed more than a few hits (and Natasha had ripped a hole in the back of Hammer's slacks because she was quietly sadistic). He brushed off his wrinkled dress shirt, wondering how Natasha could wail on people and not have a hair out of place by the time she was done, seriously, her skirt wasn't twisted or anything, her shirt still looked freshly pressed, and her hair was still brushed neatly.

 

He really hoped no one had been around to watch them brawl in the library. They were in a corner by the conference room, but that didn't mean someone hadn't seen the debacle. Deciding to leave before he could they would be banned for the rest of their high school career, they snuck out past the librarian, who would no doubt shriek when she went to inspect the noise.

 

As they made their way out to the courtyard, Phil wondered if he had imagined the laughing blue eyes and smirk of a shadow sitting on the roof of the gym.

\-----

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

\-------

Phil was eating in the West Wing, and working on his AP Physics homework when someone spoke up.

 

"I saw you the other day."

 

Phil did _not_ jump when he heard the rich voice. There was a slight edge of humor in it, and his cheeks burned slightly at the effect it seemed to have on him. He looked around, but saw no source of the voice. He hoped that the stress from studying for his AP exams hadn't given him a mental breakdown-

 

"Up here, dude."

 

He looked up, and met eyes with one Clint Barton. He knew that there were a lot of things he could say in response to that, but it seemed like none would come out. Instead, he let out a rather embarrassing,

 

"How did you get up there?"

 

He felt like slapping himself. 'How did you get up there'? That was the best he could do? He needed to get a grip.

 

Clint raised an eyebrow, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He was sitting on one leg in a high windowsill, his free swinging leg making a dull * _thump*_ every time it hit the wall. Phil took in the rumpled uniform shirt, beat up Converse, and absent tie. Instead of answering his question, Clint tilted his head.

 

"I wouldn't take you for the ass-kicking type. You can't really see it behind the whole 'studious student' persona."

 

He willed the burning away from his cheeks. He saw him. He had hoped to whoever was upstairs that no one besides Natasha had, because he really didn't want the attention that came from having... abilities...like that. But now Clint knew, and he might tell his friends-

 

Clint  seemed to pick up on his quiet panic, because his grin melted into something a little softer.

 

"Relax. I won't share your little secret. I don't really know why you'd want to hide that, but I guess it's not my call."

 

Phil felt himself relax. He just wanted to stay in the background. He could focus and get stuff done there. Having less distractions was a good thing. Clint narrowed his eyes.

 

"I see why Nat likes you. And if Nat likes you, well, so do I. Name's Clint. Clint Barton. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I know. I mean- I know who you are. My name's Philip Coulson. Call me Phil."

 

Clint's eyes darkened, and his smile seemed more forced.

 

"You know me, huh? I guess my reputation proceeds me. I better go."

"Wait! I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that Nat gave me your name yesterday."

 

Clint seemed hesitant, but settled back into his spot. 

 

"Sorry. Most people don't enjoy my presence, you know. They wonder when I might turn on them or something." 

"I don't really mind. And you haven't shot me yet, so I assume I'm safe for now."

"Wow. An ass-kicker and a sarcastic asshole. I almost missed that, you dry-toned bastard."

 

Normally he would bristle at being addressed like that, but something about Clint's aura soothed his nerves and made him laugh instead of turn away. They at some point started chatting about anything and everything, including Phil's rigorous class schedule, Clint's archery competitions, Phil's reluctant 'badass skills', and Clint's fondness for high up spaces. Clint had just waved the last one off as a quirk, but Phil suspected there was more to it than that. He didn't pry though, unwilling to put a damper on the pleasant atmosphere.

 

He couldn't remember the last time he had talked to someone so humorous. Before he knew it, the bell had rang, and it was time for fifth period. Phil sighed, and Clint raised an eyebrow.  

 

"What's wrong?"

"We have a sub today. He's incompetent as one could get, and I'm not looking forward to him at all."

"Why don't you skip, then?"

 

Phil blinked, and raised an eyebrow. 

 

"Because that's against school regulations?"

"Pfft. Regulations. Are you fifty? I hope not, because you're hot and I would be disappointed."

 

Phil schooled his expression into an unimpressed look. Clint just shrugged, unrepentant.

 

"I do it all the time. You have a car. Just leave."

"I don't think-"

"See, that's the thing. You think too much. Let's ho be spontaneous. Carpe Diem, and all that other philosophical shit."

 

If he wanted to, he could have refused. But Clint was grabbing his hand and dragging him towards Lola, and it actually felt pretty...exciting.

 

"This is such a bad idea."

 

But nonetheless, he couldn't deny the feeling of freedom as he drove out of the school's gates. Clint's enchanting laughter was music to his ears, and he felt lighter as he drove down the street.

\------

He couldn't wipe the smile off of his face once he had gotten home. Clint and himself had spent the rest of the day together, doing things that he hadn't really considered or seen why they were considered fun. But in between Clint showing off his impressive singing voice by singing along to Phil's soft-rock collection, grabbing extremely unhealthy food from Clint's favorite diner downtown, and talking about anything and everything they thought of, he had had one of the best days ever. And on top of that, Phil had gotten Clint's number before dropping him off at his apartment.

 

"Phil? I got a call from the school."

 

He flinched. Damn. Busted. He stood up straight. Not yet. He just had to come up with sonething to tell his mom.

 

"I got sick after lunch and went to the Infirmary. I guess I forgot to type in my I.D, so they marked me absent."

 

His mother nodded, and Phil felt a little guilty for the lie. But his day with Clint was drowning out his shame. He took his chance to bolt upstairs, and deposited his stuff in its proper place, then called Natasha.

 

"Phil."

"Hey, Nat."

"Where were you? You made me suffer McDaniel by myself."

"That's what I'm calling you about. I...skipped with Clint."

"YES. Finally. Did you get his number?"

"Yes, I did. But it wasn't like you're thinking. We just-"

"Nope. I have officially pegged you two as a couple. I have to go. Don't sabatoge this, Philip."

"I won't, I promise."

 

After they both hung up, he stared at the photo Clint had put as his Contact Picture. He had taken a quick selfie, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief. The whole package that made up Clint was just out of this world. His voice, his body, his rebellious spirit, his witty intelligence, all of it made him into the most desirable yet unattainable person Phil had ever met.

 

But somehow, he had been found interesting enough to catch Clint's attention, and he was going to take full advantage of it.

 

As he laid in bed that night, dreams of a certain attractive deliquent danced across his subconscious.

\-----

 

 


End file.
